piciously, and who had knocked on the glass, was the queer man, Mr. Jenks.
"Yes, Tom I caught him," the jeweler went on. "I chased after him, and nabbed him. It was hard work, too, for I'm not a good runner. 'Now, you little rascal, tell me why you tried to rob my store?" and the diamond merchant shook the lad roughly.
"I—I didn't try to rob your store," was the timid answer.
"Well, perhaps you didn't, exactly, but your confederates did. Why did you rap on the glass, and why were you staring in so intently?"
"I wasn't lookin' in."
"Well, if it wasn't you, it was some one just like you. But why did you run when I raced down the street?"
"I—I don't know," and the lad began to snivel. "I—I jest ran—that's all—'cause I see everybody else runnin', an' I thought there was a fire."
"Ha! That's a likely story! You ran because you are guilty! I'm going to hand you over to the police."
"Did he get anything, Mr. Track?" asked one of the men who had joined the jeweler in the chase.
"No, I can't say that he did. He didn't get
